Some of Janacek's most characteristic invention is to be found in the many choruses he wrote for local choirs who were moved by both a love of singing together and a demonstration of their national identity. There is a good selection here (though I regret the omission of the wonderful Marycka Magdonova). Even the earliest, a touching little lament for a duck, has a quirkiness which saves it from sentimentality; the latest, the Nursery Rhymes, are marvellous little inventions from the dazzling evening of Janacek's life. One must resist any temptation to say that they take Stravinsky on at his own game: Janacek is his own man. In between comes a varied diet here. Schoolmaster Halfar (or Cantor Halfar) is set with a dazzling range of little musical ironies as the story unfolds of the teacher who ruined his life by insisting on speaking Czech. The Elegy on the death of his daughter Olga goes some way toward dignifying a conventional text with some heartfelt music, but the pressure of grief has not drawn the greatest of his music from him: perhaps more time was needed, and indeed the piano pieces he entitled Along an Overgrown Path re-enter ancient griefs more expressively.
The performances are fluent and smooth; and perhaps this is not always a recommendation. Czech groups, especially the great Moravian Teachers' Choir in their heyday, brought to this music a sharpness, an oddity, a tang in the rhythms and phrasing that responded better to the music than these well-ironed performances. Nevertheless, for the best here there is enjoyment, and a most pleasurable reminder of Janacek's unquenchable individuality in whatever he set out to do.
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